


Reluctant Pairing

by defenselesswriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mates, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defenselesswriter/pseuds/defenselesswriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after s3 ep5 but instead of Derek going to Ms. Blake, he goes to Stiles where Stiles is left to wonder why him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles sits in his desk chair, dropping his lacrosse bag loudly on the floor. He immediately boots up his computer, drumming his fingers on his desk as it loads. Once it’s up and running, he Googles dark druids. After a few minutes, he has at least ten tabs open on his web browser ranging from ancient civilization sacrifice rituals and modern dark druids.

  
Stiles sighs, rubbing the top of his head, still feeling slightly weirded out that his hair is grown out instead of his normal buzz cut. He’s going to be different this year, but it would be great if out of the fifty million tabs open there was actually any useful information. But there isn’t, and Stiles still has none of the answers.

Now that he has nothing to do, his thoughts start to wander to Derek. He swallows. Derek is dead. It’s really unbelievable. Stiles was under the impression that Derek was invincible, but obviously he isn’t. He wasn’t. Stiles is going to have to start referring to him in past tense. He’s gone. He’s really gone. Stiles didn’t believe Scott when he told him, but it’s true.

Leaning back in his desk chair, Stiles rests his feet on top of his desk. He’s resisting the urge to glare at his window. The window Derek was constantly coming through without invitation. The window that Derek will never climb through again.

He swallows again, and if anyone asks, Stiles was not crying, especially not over Derek Hale, the man who has been causing Stiles bodily harm for over a year. The man who demanded Stiles to do this or that. The man who was constantly telling Stiles to shut up – let’s be honest, who hasn’t told Stiles to shut up at some point? The man who was always calling Stiles an idiot. The man who looked like he was at Stiles’ window right at this moment.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles exhales, staring at his window. There is bloody hand resting against the glass and a bloody, stubble face staring at Stiles through it. Stiles jumps out of his chair and rushes to the window, opening it up and dragging Derek into his room. “What the hell, dude?”

“Stiles,” Derek coughs out as he hits the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks, staring down at the werewolf dying on his floor. “Oh, God. You’re bleeding everywhere. Oh.” Stiles moans in disgust. “You got blood on my rug, dude. Why are you here?”

“I…need your help,” Derek manages to get out brokenly. He looks like he’s in a lot of pain, so Stiles drops to the floor, trying to see how to help him.

“I’m not exactly a doctor or a Deaton,” Stiles tells Derek the obvious. “What do you want me to do?”

“I just…need you. Just stay right there.” He winces in pain, and Stiles has no idea what to do to help him. He just sits next to Derek like he asked.

“Why me?” Stiles asks, staring down at the bleeding alpha on his floor.

He looks up at the teenager, eyes flashing red. “Shut up, Stiles. Just. Stay,” he growls.

Stiles is tempted to make a dog joke, but he follows Derek’s instructions and shuts up. After a while, Stiles thinks Derek is sleeping, so he stands up to turn off the lamp on his desk. Derek starts making sounds, kind of like whimpering. Stiles immediately returns to his spot on the floor next to Derek and when he gets closer, he can hear the whimpers properly. Derek was saying his name.  
What the hell?

 *

Derek blinks opens his eyes and notices the teenage boy lying beside him. He’s confused. When did he get into Stiles’ room? And why is Stiles willingly sleeping beside him, curling ever so slightly into Derek? What the hell is going on?

Memories of the last few days flash in Derek’s mind. The fight with the alpha pack and his near death experience. Speaking of which, shouldn’t he be feeling worse? His wounds weren’t healing as fast as usual, but now, they’re almost nearly gone.

Then Derek remembers last night more clearly. Derek was seeking out his mate last night because he knew instinctively that his mate would help him heal. That still doesn’t explain why he’s at Stiles’ house. Unless.

No. Stiles cannot be Derek’s mate. Just look at him. He’s ridiculous for one. His mouth never stops moving. His body never stops moving. He’s so annoying and always sticking his head in where he’s not supposed to and getting himself in trouble and then helping out everyone and ugh. Stiles can’t be his mate. This isn’t how this works. Except, this is exactly how it works. Derek doesn’t get to pick his mate; his mate doesn’t get to pick him either. Then Derek thinks about it.

What if Stiles doesn’t want him? Derek doesn’t want him, so what would be the big deal? Derek has to remind himself that once finding his mate or in this case realizing who it is, he can’t not be with them. He doesn’t have any choice in the matter as a wolf, but Stiles does, and with the way Derek has treated Stiles in the past, it’s a good possibility Stiles won’t want Derek.

Stiles mumbles something, stirring in his sleep. “Derek,” he mumbles clearer this time. “Oh, God. Fuck. Derek.”

Derek frowns, listening to Stiles’ heart pound. There is a flush across his cheeks, and he can’t stop moving around until his hand lands on Derek’s stomach. His eyes flash open with a gasp and sits straight up. He frowns in confusion, looking around at his floor until he finds Derek watching him.

“You’re still here,” he sighs, pulling his legs up and putting his head between his legs. His heart is beating even faster now.

“Were you having a bad dream?” Derek asks.

Stiles’ head snaps back to look at Derek. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet,” he grumbles, still blushing.

Derek doesn’t say anything, just listens as Stiles breathes to steady his heartbeat. The silence in uncomfortable around Stiles because all Derek can think about is what Stiles is thinking about. What was his dream about? Why did he say Derek?

“So why did you come here last night?” Stiles asks, finally looking directly at Derek. His eyes study him for a moment, slowly going down his body. Derek wants to blush, but he doesn’t. “You’re looking a lot better.” It sounds kind of like an accusation.

“Just needed a place to crash,” Derek lies easily. “My apartment’s too far from here.”

“Why couldn’t you go to Scott’s?” Stiles asks, suspiciously.

Derek takes a deep breath and shrugs. “You seem to like me a little more than Scott does.”

“And that’s saying something because I’m pretty sure I hate you,” Stiles tells him.

Derek swallows, trying not to be hurt by that comment. He already knew Stiles disliked him. It just must be harder now that Derek knows or suspects that Stiles is his mate. “I’m hungry,” Derek says dryly.

Stiles looks at him for a moment and then rolls his eyes. “You already soaked my floor in your blood, made me spend the night on said floor of my own room when my bed is completely open, and now you want me to get you breakfast?”

Derek nods once, knowing Stiles won’t not get him breakfast. He watches as his possible mate stands up, grumbling about the stupid alpha that should be able to take care of himself. “I heard that,” Derek calls out as Stiles leaves the room.

How does Derek even tell Stiles that he’s his mate? Should he just keep it from him and never speak of it? No, he can’t do that to Stiles. It would just be mean to withhold that kind of information from the kid. Yeah, Stiles will probably decide to ignore the information, but once it’s out of Derek’s mouth, the ball isn’t in his field anymore.

Wow. That is a really bad analogy right now.

Stiles comes back up the stairs, his face hard as he shoves a plate of Pop Tarts at Derek. “My dad came in last night and saw us on the floor,” he says, looking embarrassed and frustrated at the same time. “So this will be super fun to explain to him, especially since I don’t even know the full story!”

Derek takes a bite of the stupid toaster pastry and sighs. “Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll tell you, but you have to know that I didn’t want this to happen and that I have no control over it.” Stiles just rolls his eyes, waiting for the explanation. “I think…I think you’re my mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr!](http://dude-its-bcn-hlls.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek tries to explain to Stiles what this whole "mate" thing means.

“Your mate?” Stiles exclaims, standing up from his spot on the floor. He immediately starts pacing, needing the movement at the time. “I can’t be your mate, Derek. I’m…Do you even like me? You hate me too, don’t you? Ah! Of course you do. Jesus Christ, I’m not even gay, Derek. I can’t be your mate. Wolves mate for life.” He finally pauses for a breath. “What does mate mean to werewolves?”

Derek takes a deep breath, not wanting to talk about this, but he decided to tell Stiles, so he has to talk about this. “It means that you complete me. You make me stronger, kind of like having a bigger or strong pack. That’s why I came here last night.”

“Wait,” Stiles interrupts him. “How long have you known?”

“Since I woke up this morning,” Derek says, already exhausted with this conversation. “Stiles, I swear I didn’t know. I didn’t pick this. I just instinctively sought out comfort in my mostly dead state. I came to you because you’re my mate. You even made me heal faster last night. I’m sorry.” He kind of chokes out the last word, trying not to let the emotion get through his voice.

“Dude, did you just apologize to me?” Stiles says and shakes his head. “Whoa. You said the same thing in my dream last night, and that ended.” He stops himself before continuing, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

Derek’s eyebrows raise at him. “What dream, Stiles?”

His heart pounds and his cheeks flame, so instead of talking like he usually does when he’s nervous, Stiles shoves an entire Pop Tart into his mouth. But Derek doesn’t say anything the entire time, just waiting for Stiles to break first because he always does. Stiles groans after he has nothing but non-chewable mush left in his mouth. He swallows and starts talking. “It’s not anything crazier than your whole ‘Hey, Stiles. Guess what? We’re mates’ spiel,” Stiles says, but he’s still blushing and his heart is still going crazy. “Okay. Fine. Stop giving me third degree burn with your eyes, Derek. Jesus.”

One of Derek’s eyebrows raise. “Third degree burn?”

Worse metaphor in the entire world, Stiles. Way to go, he thinks to himself and abruptly changes the subject. “Hey, fun question,” Stiles says, trying to avoid talking about his dream about Derek. “Now, that I’m your mate, can you still hurt me like you usually do? Like, remember all those times you slammed my head into my steering wheel?”

Derek shakes his head. “Now that I know you’re my mate, no, I can’t purposefully cause you harm.”

Thank God,” Stiles huffs, leaning back on his hands. “That saves me a whole lot of bruising and brain injury.”

“Stiles,” Derek reminds him, “the dream.”

Stiles sighs, knowing he can’t put it off any longer. “It’s embarrassing, Derek,” he mumbles.

"Tell me anyway. Do you not think admitting that you’re my mate wasn’t embarrassing for me?”

“I’m a hot piece of ass,” Stiles argues and then smiles widely. “Oh, my God. This means I’m attractive to gay guys!”

Derek groans. “I’m not gay, Stiles. Werewolves don’t have sexual orientations. We have our mates, and that’s it.”

Stiles’ face falls. “Fine. The dream. It was about you.”

“I gathered that when you mumbled my name in your sleep,” Derek says, getting impatient.

“What else did I say?” Stiles asks, shocked. Fuck. What else did he say? Anything incriminating?

“Stupid nonsense,” Derek says, rolling his eyes. “’Oh, God. Fuck. Derek.’ It was weird.”

Stiles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s glad Derek has no idea what people say during sex. “I had a sex dream about you,” Stiles blurts. “I mean, it wasn’t… Fuck. Yeah, it happened. Not that I can really say anything about it because I’m a hormonal teenager and honestly, I’ll hump anything. It doesn’t even have to be an animate object. Preferably, it would because I think that’s what constitutes you actually losing your virginity, and I’d like to lose that one day eventually. Well, today would be nice.” His blush deepens. “Not that I’m saying we should today because we just found out we’re mates, and is there a dating and getting to know each other part? Well, I already know you. At least you didn’t have to mate with a person who knew nothing about werewolves because I’m guessing that’s like a dealbreaker for some people. For you it’s probably an icebreaker. ‘Hi, I’m Derek Hale. I like long walks on the beach and I turn into a wolf sometimes. Lycanthropy is a weird thing.’ Do you actually turn into a wolf or just morph into a really hairy man with fangs and claws like Scott does?” He ends the ridiculous monologue with his hands formed into clawed and rawring slightly.

“Stiles,” Derek finally yells. “Shut the hell up. How do you not die from suffocation? Did you breathe at all during that?”

“Got lungs of steel,” Stiles says, looking proud.

“Jesus, my head hurts after that stupid monologue.” Derek puts his hands on his head, groaning. “I’m not sure I even heard half of it correctly, but it sounded like you’re a lot more adjusted to this whole mate-thing than I am. What gives?”

Stiles shrugs. “The dream,” he mumbles. “I’ve never had a sex dream before, Derek.”

“But I thought you’re a hormonal teenager who will hump anything?” Derek questions.

He shrugs again, unsure of how to respond. “I was lying. I didn’t want you to think that the dream meant something when it kind of did. I’ve been questioning my sexuality for a while.” Stiles pauses and thinks about it. “Actually, ever since I met you I’ve been questioning it.” Then his heart start beating faster again. “And I lied. I’ve had sex dreams before. Just never about anyone else.”

Derek’s eyebrows are up again, staring at the teenager in wonder. “You’ve had sex dreams about me before?” he asks, trying to gauge how he feels about it.

Stiles scoffs. “That’s what you pick up on. God, Derek. Here’s my question for you, why last night? Why were you searching for me last night? What about the night you were injured? What about the other times you’ve been injured and about to die?”

Derek frowns, thinking about it and finally shrugs. “I have no idea. It felt like something was calling out for me. Were you…it sounds stupid, but were you calling out for me?”

Stiles thinks about it and an image of him crying over Derek being dead flashes in his mind. He shrugs it off. “I mean, I was slightly upset because we all thought you were dead, but it wasn’t like I was sobbing and calling out your name.” Even though it was kind of exactly like that.

“Stiles,” Derek says, “I can still hear your heartbeat.”

“Cheater,” Stiles mumbles. “Okay, maybe I was hoping you weren’t dead. Maybe.”

Derek tries not to smile at that, but he does anyway. So what? It’s nice to hear that someone wants him alive. He swallows, trying to ignore the feelings that keep popping up and speaking of things that are popping up. “Stiles, what are you thinking about right now?” Derek asks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles pops a boner in front of Derek. Can you feel the secondhand humiliation?

“None of your damn business, Hale,” Stiles says and then notices Derek’s line of sight and glances down. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck my life. Nothing. I was thinking about nothing, Derek.” He grabs a pillow off of his bed and rests it on his lap, over his boner. If there wasn’t so much blood rushing to his dick, Stiles would be blushing right now.

“So you were thinking about me?” Derek asks, seemingly innocent.

“God, no,” Stiles says indignantly. And he was wrong. There is still enough blood flow to make him blush. Damn his pallor complexion and it being able to show every single damn time Stiles blushed. “Okay. Fine. Maybe. Maybe I was thinking about you, but that doesn’t mean anything, Derek.” Okay, it meant a lot that Derek just gave Stiles a boner, but let’s not talk about that. “What we should talk about is the fact that you’re still covered in blood. Do you want to use my shower?”

“Depends,” Derek says, an evil glint in his eye or maybe that’s just his eye. Stiles can’t tell. “Are you planning on jumping me in the shower?”

 _Fuck yeah, I am_ , Stiles thinks and shakes his head “Not if you don’t want me to,” he says instead so that his heart doesn’t race and betray him for lying because that’s not technically a lie. Stiles wouldn’t force himself on Derek if Derek didn’t want him to. Fuck. Where did all these feelings for Derek come from? Just because he knows that Derek may possibly have to biologically reciprocate them, is Stiles actually letting himself feel them for the first time? No. That’s too deep. Stiles is just horny for anyone.

“Hm,” is all Derek responds with before standing up and walking to Stiles’ bathroom.

“Wha-,” Stiles stops. “What kind of answer was that, mate?”

Derek pokes his head out the door with a small smile. “The kind to leave you wondering.”

“So you’re the girl in this relationship?” Stiles asks. “You’re playing stupid little games like a girl would, Derek.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, Derek just goes into Stiles’ bathroom, leaving Stiles to debate whether or not to follow him. His penis says yes, yes, you should follow him and let him ravage you like no tomorrow, but the sensible part of Stiles is like no, don’t do that. You don’t know where this could lead. Maybe Derek is just messing with you, and that whole mate shit is just bs. And then another part of Stiles is like, did you not see how bad he was yesterday? He probably needs help in there. The least you could do is offer through the door and wait for Derek’s response.

Stiles likes the last idea the best, so he gets up and knocks on the bathroom door. “Derek?” he calls out, knowing full well that the werewolf with super wolfy hearing can hear him. “Do you need any help? There’s a first aid kit in there, and.” Stiles stops when the door is opened by a naked Derek. Stiles gulps. “You could’ve just said yes or no, bro.”

Derek rolls his eyes and grabs Stiles by the shirt, pulling him into the bathroom forcibly.

“Dude. I thought you weren’t supposed to be causing me any harm?” Stiles asks.

“On purpose,” Derek adds, making Stiles’ penis twitch ever so slightly with that prospect. “No, but really I do need help,” Derek admits. “I can’t reach all of the cuts, and I need them to be washed.”

Stiles just gapes at him, wondering what that entails when he remembers what you have to do to wash out cut. Right. Idiot. Stiles goes to the medicine cabinet and takes out the peroxide and a cotton ball. “Turn around,” he instructs Derek, surprisingly calm. The alpha does as he says, and Stiles grimaces at the amount of lacerations on his back. Carefully, Stiles begins dabbing at all of them with only minor cursing from Derek, but a lot of growling. “Bro, calm down. I know this sucks, but you’ve dealt with worse,” Stiles tells him.

Derek groans. “It’s not just that, Stiles,” he says, sounding slightly affected by the pain. Only slightly, though. “It’s that I asked for your help. I’m an alpha. I should be able to lick my own wounds.”

“Oh, you want me to lick you?” Stiles asks, not entirely turned off by the idea, but slightly turned off by the idea of licking Derek’s wounds. Ugh. Gross.

Derek takes a deep breath and clears his throat. “You know what I meant, Stiles.”

“Just because you’re an alpha doesn’t mean you can magically reach your entire back,” Stiles reminds him. “You’re doing a great job of leading your pack, though, Derek. If they learn that you asked a mere human for help, I’m sure they’re not going to think any less of you. Especially since that lowly human is me, and I’m fucking awesome.”

Derek laughs at that, and finally, Stiles has no reason to be touching Derek anymore, so he steps back. Derek turns around, facing his mate and trying not to think about just taking him here. Even if it is obvious that Stiles wants him back, Derek isn’t sure that he’s okay with just going at it. Maybe he should start with a kiss. God, it’s been so long since Derek’s done any of this. Maybe he should just ask Stiles.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers, taking the peroxide from Stiles and grabbing another cotton ball. “What do you want me to do?”

His cheeks redden as Stiles takes a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how do I act on this…information?” he rephrases.

“The mate information?” Stiles clarifies, definitely not watching Derek clean up his wounds or ogling his still flawless abs.

Derek nods but notices that Stiles isn’t looking at his face, which makes Derek work hard not to laugh. “Yeah, that.”

Stiles shrugs, finally looking back up at Derek’s face. “What do you want to do?”

“You,” Derek says bluntly.

Stiles makes a face that he thinks probably looks a lot like the Obama Not Bad meme. “I can, you know, be okay with that,” Stiles mumbles.

“I’m not,” Derek says and then realizes what Stiles probably thinks that meant. “No, I mean, I don’t want to rush into something we’re unsure about, but I need to do something.”

“What you need to do is put on a towel or go into the shower if you’re not going to do me,” Stiles demands.

So Derek jumps into the shower, turning on the water, staying away from the showerhead until the water is warm enough. He can hear Stiles walking towards the door. “Stiles, wait. Can we finish this talk?”

“Maybe when you’re not naked,” Stiles calls out, sounding strained.

“No, I need to do this now before I lose all want to talk,” Derek tells him.

Stiles looks at his feet, trying to decide what to tell Derek. “Kiss me. Ask me on a date. Hang out with me. Get to know me without trying to slam my head into anything, and I’ll try to get to know you without assuming you’re some broody asshole.”

Derek thinks about it, nodding before shutting off the water. He doesn’t exactly want to deal with soap, and he doesn’t think his control will hold on if he smells like Stiles, who is now sticking a towel behind the shower curtain. “Thanks,” Derek mumbles, thinking that Stiles is already taking care of him like a mate would. He wraps the towel around his waist and steps out of the shower before pulling Stiles into him.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles mumbles, looking down at Derek’s incredibly hard and wet and sexy body. Jesus. No. No. He can’t. “Derek, my self-control is awful.”

“Mine too,” Derek interrupts as he leans closer to Stiles, his lips finding the teenager’s.

Stiles moans into the werewolf’s mouth, feeling entirely embarrassed that he let it out, but he doesn’t care because Derek’s lips are actually touching Stiles, and this isn’t a fucking dream. Holy shit. The way Derek’s stubble feels on Stiles’ hair-free face and the way his lips are moving against his and is that his tongue? Another moan escapes despite Stiles’ best efforts to keep it in.

“Nope, we gotta stop there,” Stiles stumbles, pulling away from a very naked and very sexy Derek. “I…uh…” he clears his throat before continuing. “I need a breather and pinch me because I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming.”

Derek’s lips twitch in a possible smile, but he pushes passed Stiles to go back into his room. “I kinda need clothes,” Derek mumbles.  
Stiles’ eyes are roaming again and then he notices. “Bro, your cuts are all healed.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls, turning around. “We just kissed. We’re supposed mates. Stop. Calling. Me. Bro.”

Gulp. “We’re not bros. We’re…what are we?”

Derek sighs, shaking his head. “I have no idea, but I don’t have any clothes, and I’m exhausted.”

“You can sleep in my bed if you want,” Stiles offers. “I don’t know what to do about clothes. Obviously, none of mine will fit you, so if you just want to sleep in my bed naked, I have no objections.”

“Can I at least borrow boxers?” Derek asks, and Stiles shrugs, gesturing at his dresser.

“Whatever fits, you can wear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys! :D I just wanted to throw it out there that this is the first time I've ever posted a fanfic ever. So please leave comments on what you liked, what I could fix, etc. Thank you for reading!!!


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